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Featured Author - January Handle Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month |
He punches out the wakeup code on the key console, causing a few feminine gurgling noises, as if a woman was awakening from a night after being roofied. "Cap-t-tain?" Christina's voice comes on. The lack of power was slurring her vocal output, but she probably had enough power to drive the ship if she kept quiet, if not for the fact that the lack of power was severe enough that the ship would no longer run its propel jets even as a slow-rotating decoration of sorts. "Yes, Christina. I... I just came to thank you for taking care of me all these years. It was a good five decades with you." Oskar nods at the keypad, lit softly by the same dim amber glow he'd grown accustomed to all these years. "All those years of ordering my early morning break simply because I'd forgotten to do so, all those modest fuel savings borrowing the undercurrent flows of the seas, all those cargoes carried safely..." "Forty eight years, 4 mmm-onnnn-onths, and 3-3-3 days, actually. Also: there was the one time that luxury car car fell off." There is a tinge of mournfulness in her voice even as she playfully corrects the captain. Or was it just the power supply lacking? "Fuck that Elonin Musket guy. If he wants to ignore my advice on how to pack his car to avoid shifting on the ocean, it's his mudball to bear when it shifts all the way off the cargo deck!" He's not drunk, Oskar swears, the kvass he's sipping from his other hand isn't that strong. But it's clear that it has affected his mind a little in some ways. "Where will you goooo next-next-next, Captain? Who is-is-is taking over the Christeeeeena?" |
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